


Bride in Black

by Tat_Tat



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:39:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3993805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They did not sing songs about Sansa Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bride in Black

**Author's Note:**

> http://8tracks.com/abigailrising/porcelain-ivory-steel

They did not sing songs about her. Bards sang of young princesses with porcelain skin and flowers in hair that flowed like rivers. Sansa’s skin was steel and there were bones in her red hair. She bore the weight of her dead kin, their faces she struggled to recall anymore, their beautiful features replaced by those of her enemies. 

Sansa remembered her enemies vividly. She still knew Joffrey’s proud scowl like the back of her bone white hands, the stink of alcohol under Tyrion’s breath, just the memory making her upper lip curl, Ramsey’s wet mouth, his ugly face and blotchy skin. The faces of murderers, all murderers that she was forced to wed. The hatred never left her, just like the needlepoint skills her mother taught her stayed with her. They were ingrained on her soul. She would never let go; she couldn’t. Her hatred, her sorrow was all she had left. It was her blade, and it was sharper than any weapon. It was dual-edged, and though she wasn’t aware, it hurt her too. 

When she was a child she dreamed of being married. She had become a bride several times, bartered off like cargo to many lords. They all died or disappeared before the union could be consummated. Eventually, lords and lands feared her hand in marriage. But they were bold and stupid and craved the North more than their own livelihoods. Be a man and marry the cursed Stark girl. Take the North, and then take her.

Only one man took her, her last husband. He didn’t rule the North for long. He gave her a child and though she loathed his father, she loved the child. She thanked the old gods and the Seven for giving her a son. A son would grow up to be a chess piece, but at least he wouldn’t grow up to become a bartered bride. She wanted the best for her child and prayed for days of summer.

No songs were sung of Sansa Stark, only rumors spoken in hushed tones in dark corridors. They called her a bride in black, her true husband The Stranger. The words would echo and reach her ear, and she would smile.


End file.
